


Love and punishment

by Kayim



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: Coulson just needs Clint to finish his paperwork.





	Love and punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Despite this fic being one of the ones I wrote in response to a kissing prompt, there is a distinct lack of kissing in it. My bad.

"I'm fairly sure it was your idea for me to finish my post-op paperwork before we could leave, Sir," Clint mutters as he tries to concentrate on the laptop screen.

"It was, Barton," Coulson agrees, even as he's walking to the door. He flicks the lock over with one hand, and reaches out to turn the blinds to 'blackout'. He's loosening his tie as he turns back to face Clint. "And I'm still insisting on that paperwork being completed."

Clint isn't sure what exactly is going on, but he's pretty sure this is his punishment for switching off his comms in the middle of an assignment. He had a good reason at the time, although watching Coulson ( _Phil, his brain helpfully reminds him_ ) undoing the top button of his perfectly ironed shirt has caused all thoughts to disappear.

Well, almost all thoughts.

"Am I being punished?" he asks, his mouth working faster than his brain.

Phil's suit jacket is already laying across the back of the chair in the corner of the room. He walks over to the desk where Clint's attempting to work, and perches himself on the edge. "Do you think you need punishing for something, Agent?"

The fact that Phil is calling him 'Agent' and 'Barton' is a surefire indication that _something_ is going on. For a man who was sobbing Clint's name during the third of last night's orgasms, if he's sticking with formalities, Clint knows who's in charge here. Hell, Phil's in charge no matter where they are - they both know that.

"I'm still waiting on that finished report," Phil reminds him. He's removed his cufflinks and has started to roll his sleeves up.

As far as Clint is concerned, that's just playing dirty. They both know about Clint's obsession with Phil's arms. At least the 'game' is fairly straightforward; finish writing his report while Phil starts to strip, without throwing the laptop out of the window and jumping his bones.

Easy.

"You know this won't work," Clint mutters, tearing his gaze away from where Phil's hands are resting on his belt. "I'm a sniper. I can concentrate on one specific thing for hours."

"I'm so pleased to hear that." Phil's deadpan response is one that used to drive Clint mad, until he learned to hear the humor beneath it. It just one of many things he loves about him. What he's doing right now? Clint's not so in love with that.

Clint stares intently at the computer screen, willing the words to appear faster than he can type. He's not entirely sure how legible this report will be by the time he's finished, but at least it will be finished. He hears the unmistakable sound of Phil unbuckling his belt, slowly pulling it through the loops on his pants, and he has to bite his lip.

"You know what, sir?" Clint says, pushing down the lid of the laptop. He knows that he could concentrate on the report if he wanted to. But right now, he really doesn't want to. "I apologize for going off comms. I apologize for worrying you. I apologize for any damn thing you want."

Finally, Phil smiles. "That was all I wanted, Clint."

The report doesn't get finished. At least not for a few more hours.


End file.
